


nothing is done till you open your eyes

by egelantier



Series: drabbles and flashfics [73]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Broken Bones, Flash Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egelantier/pseuds/egelantier
Summary: "Good news are, Prompto is close to Hammerhead, so he'll beg a potion off Cor and Armiger it to us. ETA about ten hours."Bad news are obvious to them both: they're out of potions, bandages, antiseptic; they've been crawling through the bowels of this Imperial base for almost a month.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia
Series: drabbles and flashfics [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/625589
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31
Collections: Fics from the Basement





	nothing is done till you open your eyes

Ignis' skin is split like a ripe tomato. The inside of his leg is spread out like an anatomic atlas, torn muscles and yellow fat churned around the jagged edges of broken tibia. 

The ugly mess of it offends Gladio. He presses the cleanest part of his parka to the wound as hard as he dares, checks the Armiger, swears, and shoots a one-handed message to Prompto. The steel-plated door is all that stands between them and the Iron Giant who turned Ignis' leg into mincemeat, and Gladio is not going back out there. He just prays that the rusty sink in the corner works. 

His phone beeps, and Gladio glances at the message and swears again. The bleeding has stopped; he swaddles Ignis' upper body in his stained parka. _Gods_ but he hates Gralea. 

"Good news are, Prompto is close to Hammerhead, so he'll beg a potion off Cor and Armiger it to us. ETA about ten hours."

Bad news are obvious to them both: they're out of potions, bandages, antiseptic; they've been crawling through the bowels of this Imperial base for almost a month. 

Maybe he should have put his foot down a week ago. But woe betide anybody who stands between Ignis and his crusade - and, this close to the grand finale, Gladio is a true believer himself.

The sink yields a trickle of tepid water. Gladio scrubs his hands until they're red and raw, fills a bowl. He pours the first handful of water over the wound, and Ignis makes a sound too reedy and shallow to be a scream. 

"Shh," Gladio says, "shhh," because he never quite got out of habit of treating wounds like he is fussing over Iris' scraped knees.

Debridement is never fun, but Gladio'd rather lose Ignis to pain and shock than to Scourge. Ignis holds onto his stoicism for another handful of water before beginning to trash around; by the fourth he's begging, incoherent. 

"Almost done," Gladio murmurs, keeping his hands steady. "Hold on, Iggy." 

A broken chair makes for a splint; Gladio is quick and gentle, and tries not to think about the bones healing crooked. Ignis would accept any price for Noct's life; so be it. 

"You stubborn sod,' Gladio tells him, and trickles water into his mouth. "Who'll sew Noct's buttons if you kick it?" 

"Find," Ignis coughs, with dignified difficulty, "a new… complaint. This one… stale…"

"Yes, yes," Gladio says, and blinks to chase the tears away. "I'll get right to it."

He lays down on Ignis' uninjured side, pillows Ignis' head on his shoulder, and settles in for a long wait. 

"Worth it," Ignis whispers, an apology and defiance, and Gladio doesn't contest his words. 


End file.
